Revelations
by the.drizzling.rain
Summary: When Merlin finally decides to reveal his magic to Arthur, he discovers a secret of Arthur's he never would have expected in a million years. AU, crack-ish, MAGICAL!Arthur


_I honestly don't know where this came from. But it happened. Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin._

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Today was the day: Merlin was going to tell Arthur everything. He was going to come clean about everything he had hid over the years, the good and the bad. If he was being honest with himself, Merlin would say he was terrified. What if he didn't accept him? If he had him executed? Burned to death at the stake with all of Camelot watching, while Arthur gave him a look of anger, betrayal and contempt? He shook his head. No, he couldn't think like that. He knew Arthur. The worst that clotpole would do was banish him. That is, if Arthur had any real say in the punishment of sorcerers—of course, that would require Arthur telling his father, Uther, first. But, if Arthur heard him out (and he hoped he would), Merlin would tell him of his magic, how he was born with it, how it was his destiny to stand by the side of the Once and Future King and what he had sacrificed in order to do so. Surely even an idiot such as Arthur couldn't look past such loyalty and sacrifice! But maybe he could—it would be just his luck if Arthur's prejudice ran so deep that he would punish him for something he couldn't help.

Merlin approached the stairs, taking a deep, calming breath before moving forward. He walked slowly, making sure to take his time. The longer Merlin could delay the inevitable, the better. Anxiety swelled inside of him, smothering him. It took effort to draw in each breath. He felt like he couldn't get enough air, yet his lungs felt full enough to burst.

In the hallway now, Merlin stumbled, his stress, fear, and natural clumsiness getting the better of him. He could see the doorway now, the mere sight of it filling him with dread. He had to force himself to walk forward, and each step felt like running a marathon. His legs trembled and his arms quivered, no matter how much he willed them to stop.

He was standing in front of the door now. Merlin rose an unsteady hand to the knob. He closed his eyes and began to open the door. A sudden sound stopped him. Beyond the partially opened door, Merlin could hear muddled mutterings of someone—more than one?—he didn't know. The wooden door was open barely an inch, and Merlin closed it hastily, praying Arthur wouldn't notice. He knelt down and listened between the two doors.

"Forbearnan!" The voice was faint; it sounded shaky and unsure of itself. A new kind of fear erupted inside of Merlin—there was clearly a sorcerer in the prince's room, and it sure wasn't Arthur. Gone was the self-centered cowardice, replaced by the fierce, age-old need to protect his prince. Merlin shoved the door open quickly, and it rebounded loudly on the stone wall. "Arthur! I heard a sorcerer in here! Are you alright?" Merlin searched the room frantically, oblivious to the horrified look on his master's face. Something clattered on the floor, and Merlin immediately set his sights back on Arthur. "Did you see wh—"

Arthur was bent over on the floor trying to shove a book beneath the bed. His eyes were wide with uncharacteristic fright and panic as he stood, trying in vain to appear normal and at ease. "Merlin," he said, attempting to channel anger and annoyance. He failed, though, and sounded terrified beyond measure. That wasn't like Arthur. Not even close. "What have I told you about knocking?"

"Sire...?" Merlin trailed off, eyes drifting to the base of the bed. What was he trying to hide? "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Merlin." Arthur assured him. _Yeah, sure_, thought Merlin.

"Well, I'm sure I heard a sorcerer—I don't suppose it was you, was it?" He joked, trying to ease the tension. If anything, his offhand comment only added to it. Arthur stiffened and smiled, although it turned out looking more like a grimace. He laughed nervously in response, his eyes downcast. "Yeah..."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "Okay, something's wrong with you. What is it?"

"Nothing, Merlin," Arthur repeated, becoming agitated. "Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving..."

It hit Merlin like a ton of bricks, or a punch to the gut. There was no mistaking it—he had heard a sorcerer. Forbearnan was one of the first spells he'd ever learned, and there was no other word he knew of that sounded like it. When he looked at Arthur again, he was surprised to see himself. He saw himself all the times he had nearly gotten caught, all the times Arthur had barged in and scared him half to death, making him think he was done for and destined for execution. He saw himself: the terrible liar, nervously trying to cover his tracks, frightened of what might happen to him had his luck run dry. Shock blossomed in Merlin's chest, and he began to look at the young prince in an entirely new light. "It was you that I heard," Merlin accused disbeliebingly. His eyes widened, and he unconciously backed up against the wall. He felt light headed...

"You're a sorcerer..." He couldn't believe it. There was no way. He was sure of it. He was sure that when he looked back up, Arthur would be laughing at him and his foolish 'realization', calling him an idiot, a clumsy fool, or any other of his stupid insults. Instead, Arthur's face crumpled, once again mirroring Merlin and how he supposed he would look had the prince done something similar. Merlin suddenly became aware of his appearance—he was backed up against a wall, gazing back at his friend with an expression he was sure wasn't the most reassuring. But how could he? How could he be anything but surprised? He had spent years—years!—fearing the opinion of another magic user, someone just as afraid, someone just as hunted, someone just as feared.

"Please, Merlin... I—it's not my fault, I swear! I didn't have a choice! It just... It just happened! I'll do anything—anything!—just... please, don't tell anyone!" Arthur's panicked cries shook Merlin from his stupor. "I swear, I've never used it to hurt anyone, ever..."

Oh, God... He really did have magic. But... How? How could the son of Uther Pendragon have magic, of all things? This changed everything—everything!—Merlin thought he would have to do in order to prepare Arthur for his role of the Once and Future King. He had thought, ever since he was told of the prophecy, that it would be him that convinced Arthur of his father's injustices, that made him believe that magic was nothing but a tool, nothing more than a sword to fight with. But it seemed fate had that covered.

The irony of the entire situation blew Merlin away. Laughter started to bubble up from his throat, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. "You... You're a sorcerer!" He cackled.

"What... What're you on about, Merlin?" Arthur asked, sounding hesitant.

"You're afraid of me! Don't you see? Don't you get it?" Merlin gasped, grinning ear to ear. He suppressed another chuckle. Arthur's confusion near outweighed his fear now, and he took a small step forward. "Merlin... you're not making any sense—"

"—Oh, Gaius is going to have a field day!" Arthur's eyes widened, his fright coming back full force. "What? You can't tell anyone, Merlin—not even Gaius! No one can know, don't you get that? I'll be killed, my own father will see to it that I'm executed!"

All laughter gone, Merlin gave Arthur a hard look. "You don't think I know that, Arthur?" Of course he knew that! Of course he did! Uther's blood lust when it came to ridding the world of magic knew no boundaries; not even Arthur would put it past him to treat his only son—his only heir—the same as the rest of the "filthy sorcerers" he had caught over the years, least of all in his deteriorating state. "No, actually. I don't think you do."

Merlin sighed, leaning his head against the cool stone wall and closed his eyes. Patting the floor beside him, he said, "Arthur, I think it's about time I've told you something."

Arthur walked toward him, his body still tense with anxiety. With surprisingly little argument, Arthur sat at the spot indicated; he curled into a ball of sorts, his chin resting on his knees. Merlin took another breath. This is it, he thought. "I have magic."

Silence. It was deafening, ringing mercilessly in Merlin's ear. His eyes, however, hadn't left Arthur. He was shocked, that much was evident. It startled Merlin just how hard it still was, despite knowing the prince wouldn't turn him in—after all, why would he? Being a sorcerer himself, why would he turn in another magic-user?

Merlin had formed a pretty good set of scenarios in his head as to how Arthur would react. Personally, he thought them to be fairly realistic, according to how well he had known Arthur. Of course, they had changed over he years along with their relationship—in the first year, he had envisioned a public execution, with only minor remorse on Arthur's account. In the second year, Arthur had banished him from Camelot for the rest of his life, forbidding him to return on pain of death in exchange for keeping the truth of his magic from Uther. For the third... Well, that one had been in the works when Merlin had made the decision to reveal his magic, along with his true intentions. There had been others as well, and they all included Arthur yelling at him. He would always feel betrayed, angry that he hadn't told him sooner. None of those, however, had Arthur laughing at him. Something he was doing right now.

It seemed as though he had finally found the irony of the situation.

"Lord, Merlin," Arthur wheezed. "That is something I never would have guessed. Not in a million years." He paused. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you?" Merlin shot back.

"Same reason as you, I suppose," he replied, brushing a hand through his golden hair. "I was afraid."

"Of me?" Merlin asked jokingly, grinning at the absurdity.

"Yes, actually. I was afraid of what you would think of me." Arthur answered, not meeting Merlin's gaze.

"As was I," he returned. "I was afraid you would turn me in. Have me executed."

Arthur chuckled. "It seems you were wrong."

Merlin grinned. "Guess so."

The pair sat in a companionable silence. Relief consumed both of them, muddling their senses. It was an amazing feeling, and an incredible weight off their shoulders. For the first time in years, Merlin felt free. He was free to be himself, just as Arthur was. While he was not free of his hefty duty of protecting the prince of Camelot—some days he doubted he ever would be—for once, he felt more than happy to do it.

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_This is the first one-shot I've ever written, and I wasn't top sure as to how I should end it, so the end is kind of messy. And the whole plot... Okay, I don't even know. I don't know where I got the idea from, I don't know whether people will find it inteteresting or not, or anything. However, if people like it, I suppose I could try and turn it into a full-fledged chapter fic...? Yeah, I dunno._

_Please REVIEW! :P_


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